


Stirred, Not Shaken

by diefleder_tey



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Archer-levels of crude humor and questionably bad taste, Gen, potentially offensive jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2019-04-05 06:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefleder_tey/pseuds/diefleder_tey
Summary: Well, what else was Krieger supposed to do?  When you build an amnesia machine, you have to give someone amnesia.  It's the law, probably.





	Stirred, Not Shaken

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Trope Fic Challenge; the assigned trope for this piece was "Amnesia." As with other trope challenge fics, it's more a vignette than anything else. As with all things Archer, probably some offensive humor to be found and much stupid silliness.

"Where...where am I?"

Lana's eyes became slits and the line of her mouth flattened into a familiar scowl of disapproval. "Great. He has amnesia. Again."

"He has amnesia?" Krieger said, scratching his head. "I wasn't expecting that."

"How? How could you not expect that?!" Ray demanded. "You shot him with the 'Forget-a-tron 3000!'"

"This was just a test run! I had no idea it'd actually work!"

"Krieger, can't you just zap him back to normal?" Lana asked.

"I guess? I've never tried shooting someone with an experimental raygun twice - they usually die after the first time. But why not," he answered, holding the gun up and aiming his sites on the still seated Archer. "Basic science _does_ tell us that getting two doses of an amnesia gun cures everything and doesn't, you know, make you forget even more. Okay, rea-"

"On second thought," Lana said, pushing his arms down.

"Well we could do it the old-fashioned way?" Cyril suggested.

"In the butt?"

"No, Pam, not in the butt. Don't they always say you should try to jog an amnesiac's memory slowly by reintroducing them to familiar things?"

Pam looked around. "Sure. But how is that any different from what I said?"

"I'll go raid the liquor bar," Ray sighed.

"Excuse me, but do any of you want to stop talking about potentially jogging my memory through anal penetration and tell me who the hell you are?" Archer grumbled from his seat. "Or maybe, I don't know, start with who am I?"

"Your name's Archer," Lana answered.

"That's a stupid name."

"Well, actually, that's just your last name," Cyril replied.

"Oh thank god, that sounded so lame. It's probably something a little dangerous and awesome, kind of rugged - like Steve or Randy," he said, crossing his arms. "Or - ooh is it Kenny? 'Kenny' keeps popping into my head, I'm probably starting to remember stuff, right? I bet I'm a Kenny."

"Um," Lana said, glancing to her coworkers.

"I propose a quick team meeting, over there?" Cyril said, shuffling the group away to a corner. When safely ten feet out, he pulled them all down into a huddle. "We're not going to tell him the truth, are we?"

"I always thought Sterling was kind of a dignified name," Krieger said.

"Not about that," Cyril replied. "Well, yes about that too, but I mean, we have a golden opportunity here. Archer can't remember a thing."

"I thought you wanted to slowly jog his memory?" Pam asked.

"That was just a suggestion, we can do that at any time. Right now we have the chance to tell Archer anything we want and he has to believe us because he has no idea otherwise."

Lana shook her head. "Nope. Nooooooope, we need to get Archer back online as soon as possible. The longer he's out of commission, the more-"

"Think about it, Lana," Cyril continued.

"I am, and the minute Malory finds out that we-"

"Technically just Krieger."

"Hey!"

"-wiped his memory, she is going to be piiiiissed," Lana said.

"She's only going to be here for another 30 minutes, that's plenty of time to have some fun with Archer and then when she's gone for the night we can fix him back to normal. Carol can distract her for half an hour, right?" Cyril said, thumbing in the direction of the main office.

Cheryl smiled and nodded. "What are we talking about?"

"Go keep Mrs. Archer's attention for 30 minutes," he replied.

"Okay. I'm going to need an iguana, six pairs of fishnet tights, and a karambit."

"Why?"

"Duh, the iguana needs holes to breathe through," Cheryl answered with a snort.

"Just...go keep her distracted."

"You're not my super-"

"Just go."

Cheryl glared at him, putting two fingers in front of her eyes and then pointing them at Cyril. "Karambit." She took down her bun and shook out her hair before taking in a deep breath. When she opened her mouth, the screeching caused everyone else to cover their ears to block out the blood-curdling noise. "Emergency! Emergency!" as she ran into Malory Archer's office. "There are people in the office who want to talk about things and something about employee accident compensation and pending lawsuits!"

Cyril waited until he heard Malory Archer's exasperated, "Quick, shut the door - we'll wait them out!" before continuing. "Okay, so we're decided-"

"No one decided yet, _Cyril_ ," Lana hissed.

"Yeah I don't know about this," Pam added. "What if what we tell him sticks and he never goes back? I mean, then he won't be Archer anymore. Lana's right. Back on the dairy farm, if you took a cow's calf away she'd go mad and try to kill everyone."

"You do realize you're essentially calling Malory a dairy cow, yes?" Lana asked.

"Hey I know," Pam answered, sounding somewhat hurt. "The dairy cow is a smart animal. It's a compliment."

"Lana, look," Cyril interrupted. "It's just for a short time. One afternoon of Archer forgetting he's a spy."

"Nope."

"Which means he won't feel the need to tell you how he's the best spy here."

"Noooooop- Hmm. No, nope."

"Which means should anything happen later today, you'll be calling the shots without him interfering."

"We're calling him Kenny, right?" Lana replied, clapping her hands together and rubbing them slightly.

"Which also means, he'll completely forget everyone he ever slept with, so he won't-"

"Thanks, Cyril, you had me at no interference. It's not necessary to keep going."

"Sorry."

"Good news, Mr. Kenny Archer!" Pam said, already back at the desk and with a hand on Archer's shoulder. "I'm happy to inform you that you're at work and we're your coworkers!"

"No, Pam, wait-," Lana started.

"And what exactly do we do?" Archer asked, looking around. "Stock market? Corporate? Run a non-profit?"

"You're a goat herder!" Pam answered.

"Pam!" Lana and Cyril hissed. "We had one chance at that," Lana said, as Cyril added, "Really? A goat herder?"

"Hey, the goat herder is a noble profession."

"I'll say," Krieger interjected. "In Brazil, the revered profession of the goat herder is known as the _Pastor de Cabras de Deus_ -"

Lana shot him a look.

"I'll just...be working on turning the 'Forget-a-tron 3000's' settings to reverse."

"A goat herder?" Archer asked. "Why are we in an office and dressed in suits instead of in a pasture somewhere?"

"You're at...a goat herder conference?" Cyril fumbled out.

"Oh, yeah, I guess you would probably have to get continuing education credits to keep your herding license," Archer mused, nodding his head.

"Great," Lana said, her voice dryer than Malory's gin. "Now we're all goat herders. I always wanted to be a goat herder. Can't wait to tell my parents, I've finally made it."

"My suit's kind of expensive for someone on my salary, isn't it?" Archer asked.

Lana, Cyril and Pam all exchanged looks. "Well, you're not just a goat herder," Lana started.

"You're also a goat 'herder,' if you know what I mean," Krieger said, using his fingers to make air quotes.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Cyril exclaimed.

"Yeah, what does that mean?" Archer echoed.

"Well, just, I thought," Krieger started. "In Brazil, the revered profession of-"

"Oh. Ohhhhh," Archer said, cutting him off. "Are we back on the butt thing again?"

Krieger looked around in a panic, his shoulders creeping up at the sight of Lana's icy stare. "Yes?"

"Krieger! You," Lana said, pointing to the elevator. "Lab. _Now_."

"Thanks a lot Krieger, you just insinuated that we all hump goats," Cyril added.

"Do not come back until you've found a way to reverse the effects of that raygun," Lana finished.

"But isn't that more of a hobby than a job?" Archer continued. "Like...how do any of us make any money? Unless we're filming i- oh god, am I really an adult video star? Is that why I'm so b-"

"Yes!" Pam answered.

Lana facepalmed. "Pam, no - porn star isn't that much of an upgrade!"

"I mean, no."

"Well, okay so what is it?" Archer said, starting to get very impatient. "Do I work in pastures and tend to small ruminates or do I spend all day naked with beautiful women and or possibly farm animals on a couch?"

"Probably the first one?" Pam replied.

"Well, then, what kind of goat?" Archer continued. "Do I look after Pashminas? Or do I spend all of my time knee-deep in Nigerian Dwarves?"

"Would that be considered phrasing?" Cyril asked.

"Let it go, Cyril, just let it go," Lana commanded.

Archer stood up, getting angry. "You don't even know the difference between those, do you?"

"I'm going to guess one of those is smaller than the other?" Pam offered.

"Well...yes, but not massively so. I mean, they're all goats so it's not like we're talking about the difference between a Smart car and a limousine," he answered, glaring at her. "More like a Smart car and a Miata. My point is, I'm starting to think either you're not actually goat herders or you're just not very good at your jobs."

"A little of both, honestly," Pam answered.

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"Who knew Archer knew that much about goats?" Cyril whispered to Lana.

"Who knew Archer knew that much about anything that didn't star Burt Reynolds?"

"Okay, got it fixed, I think!" Krieger announced from the elevator.

"I got every damn drop of the stuff I could find, well, whatever wasn't currently being nursed by our boss, and wasn't in a safe, and wasn't in the freezer with notes about stabbing unauthorized sippers," Ray said, carrying a large, clinking cardboard box. "Which to be honest, was still a hell of a lot."

"See, all I had to do was pump up the amplitude of the-" Krieger explained as he ran.

"We really probably have a drinking problem in this office," Ray said, trying to see around the top of the box. He lowered it slightly just in time to see Krieger sliding on the floor, falling and pulling the trigger on the gun. "Well," Ray said, accepting of his fate. "Dukes. I hope this doesn't put a crimp in my plans this week." The ray hit him in the face and soon he was stumbling backwards, threatening to drop the box of alcohol.

"Hey," Archer said, jumping to his aid and steadying him on his feet. "Careful, you could do a lot of damage there!"

"Thanks," Ray said, blinking, his voice drifting off as the confusion set in.

"I mean, that particular Macallan scotch is worth more than your month's salary alone, Ray."

"Do I know you?"

"Ray?" Lana asked. "Archer, you remember who Ray is?"

"Of course I do, Lana," he replied, indignant tone at first. "How do you forget- wait, I got my memory back! I got my memory back, I- what the hell, Pam, a goat herder?"

"So much for that," she answered.

Cyril shrugged. "Like I said, familiar things are supposed to jog people's memories."

"Ugh," Archer replied. "Do we have to with Ray? I don't want to pretend to fail at skiing or sleep with him to bring his memory back. I have a lot of things to do tonight."

"How...," Lana started, "how would you sleeping with Ray be so familiar it jogs his memory?"

"He's gay, Lana, Ray sleeps with men, a lot," Archer replied. "I'm sorry to shock your sensibilities but it's the 21st century. Don't be such a homophobe, gay men can express their love for each other too."

"Right," Lana replied, smiling. "That's exactly what you meant."

"I expected better of you, Lana."

"I didn't," Pam said. "She's got a pretty thick file of complaints."

"What?" Lana yelped. "I do not! And besides, even if I did, it's illegal to share that with my coworkers, _Pam_."

"Is it? Oops."

"What kind of complaints?" Lana demanded. "Who complained that I said something homophobic?"

"Oh no one yet, but they've complained about other things so I figured that one was coming."

"What other things?"

Pam shrugged. "You've said demeaning things to your coworkers?"

"Who hasn't?"

"And Archer said you sexually harassed him."

"What?! Refusing to greet him with, 'I'm goin', I'm goin', I got the metal to the petal and the thing to the floor!' every morning is not sexual harassment! If anything I'm being harassed by him!"

"I don't know, Lana," Pam said, shrugging. "I'll have to check the manual on that one."

"Yeah, _Lana_ ," Archer added.

"Is anyone going to help Ray?" Cyril interjected.

"I could try that second zap with the 'Forget-a-tron 3000' we were talking about earlier?" Krieger suggested.

"Sure, knock yourself out," Lana replied. "You don't need to check the manual because nothing about that is harassing to him, let alone sexually."

"Hey, I don't know," Pam answered. "I don't know what kind of secret code language you two have going on!"

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Just, you know, ease up on the homophobia thing and I'll keep the sexual harassment out of your file."

Lana glared at Archer. "I'm going home."

"Typical," Archer said with a small snort. "Doesn't want to admit when she's wrong. Oh, wait, Lana! Lana! Hang on, I need a ride home, I forgot where I parked today! Lana!"

Cyril watched as Archer ran off, seemingly unaffected by the entire ordeal. "Sometimes life is unfair," he remarked.

"Yeah," Pam answered. "Wanna go get shitfaced and forget about it?"

"Yeah," Cyril replied, his shoulders slumping.

"Um, excuse me?" Ray said from behind the box of alcohol. "I think someone said something about helping me?"

"Hang on, we'll get you fixed in just a moment," Krieger said, sticking out his tongue and aiming at Ray's forehead. "Just to be safe, try to hold your breath for the next minute." He pulled the trigger and an orange light shot out, accompanied by loud crackling and popping.

"Oh," Ray said, his eyes rolling back into his head as he dropped the box and his legs went limp. "That stings, like a lo-" He hit the office floor with a loud thump, his fingers twitching and his face stuck in a half-sneer.

"Oops," Krieger replied. "Maybe we're not ready to reverse this yet." He looked at the gun and then smacked his forehead. "Oh, this isn't the 'Forget-a-tron 3000!'"


End file.
